Decay
by Diabolus-in-Harmonia
Summary: [Lysandre/Ghetsis] The decay of beauty is not something Lysandre could ever tolerate. As ex-lovers, Ghetsis knew it would only be a matter of time until he found out.


"Ah, Monsieur Lysandre. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Ghetsis greeted, radiating fake warmth. He'd been expecting this man to drop by, and what great timing, too - Ghetsis was very conscious of the fact that he looked like shit. He stepped aside anyway, permitting Lysandre access to his temporary home and closing the door behind him.

"You've not been replying to my letters," Lysandre said ever so casually. Ghetsis could tell already that Lysandre had changed since last they met in person; how interesting.

"I've not, no," Ghetsis responded in kind, a fake smile on his lips. "Did you come here just to tell me that, or can I get you something?"

"You're hiding something," Lysandre told him simply. It was evident Lysandre had drawn these conclusions prior to his visit. Ghetsis smiled sweetly in response, deciding he'd play dumb.

"Am I?" He asked, catching himself before he nervously adjusted his eyepiece, not wanting to draw any more attention to - it was conspicuous enough without his help.

"I hope you don't think I'm stupid," Lysandre said, approaching Ghetsis with a sort of predatory grace that Ghetsis wasn't accustomed to in such an...unfriendly context.

"Of course not," Ghetsis responded as he backed away instinctively, dimly aware he was backing himself into a wall.

"Attempting to flee from me, are we?" Lysandre said, smirking somewhat cruelly, blue eyes drifting from Ghetsis' exposed red eye to the damaged one concealed beneath his eyepiece. "Funny, I don't remember you being such a coward. I can only assume your failed plans affected you quite badly, then..."

"I don't recall you being such an antagonistic bastard, either. It _is_ funny," Ghetsis sneered. His failure was still a fresh wound, and he was poor at hiding it.

"Resorting to name-calling already? You used to be more fun than this," Lysandre said smugly, assured he had the upper hand already. He grasped Ghetsis' chin between his thumb and forefinger almost gently, taunting him with a mock-loving smile as his free hand moved towards Ghetsis' eyepiece – _shit_. It took all of Ghetsis' restraint not to try and stop Lysandre from removing it(it would only make him use force, and they both knew who was stronger). He could only avert his eyes and try to mask his shame as his scarred, discoloured eye was revealed, waiting for the justified angry reaction from this beauty-obsessed man.

"Ugly," Lysandre muttered at last, releasing the other man's chin, glaring at Ghetsis' damaged eye as if it had personally offended him. Ghetsis smiled weakly, as if the word didn't hurt - it was nothing less than he'd expected.

"I know," he responded simply, purposefully making light of his disfigurement so as to anger Lysandre. Ghetsis heard the shattering of glass – Lysandre had tossed his eyepiece on the floor, then – and continued smiling even as Lysandre's glare intensified.

"I thought you of all people would have put more effort into staying beautiful," Lysandre muttered, his anger very thinly veiled. "It's hideous," he added, as if Ghetsis didn't _know_.

"Accidents happen," Ghetsis said dismissively, mildly surprised when he found himself slammed into wall behind him, fingers digging painfully into his arms. Lysandre's temper had grown shorter, then.

"Do you not even care?!" Lysandre demanded. His cold blue eyes were ablaze with that passionate fury, and Ghetsis had to wonder if that contempt was directed solely at him; it hadn't ever been before, so this would be a totally new experience for him to enjoy.

Lysandre tightened his already bruising grip in response to Ghetsis' silence - one way of drawing him out of his thoughts. "Of course I do," Ghetsis said quite quietly, avoiding Lysandre's gaze lest the other man grow angrier than was desirable due to his unsightly scar.

"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" Lysandre seemed satisfied with Ghetsis' implicit admission of his own ugliness, though the brunt of his anger had yet to subside.

"You don't think I haven't tried?" Ghetsis hissed, narrowing his eyes, "you don't think I would have gotten it fixed if it were possible?"

Lysandre didn't seem to have a response to Ghetsis' line of reasoning, and settled for glaring down at the damaged man, disgust written all over his features. It didn't take long for Lysandre's grip on Ghetsis' shoulders to loosen, however. "You're not perfect," Lysandre muttered, straightening his suit and avoiding Ghetsis' eyes, "not even close."

With that said, Lysandre promptly took his leave, leaving a weary Ghetsis on his lonesome in his darkened flat, cold red eyes fixed upon the broken eyepiece on the floor.

"I know."


End file.
